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"I 'blige' to see 'im!" she replied, jerking herself half around away, one foot planted forward with an air of excited preoccupation; "I god some' to tell 'im wad I 'blige' to tell 'im!" "Madame Delphine " "Oh! Père Jerome, fo' de love of de good God, show me dad way to de 'ouse of Jean Tomkin!" Her distressed smile implored pardon for her rudeness.
"Oh, Père Jerome! mo pas conné, I dunno. You know w'ere's dad 'ouse of Michè Jean Tomkin? Mo courri 'ci, mo courri l
"I 'blige' to see 'im!" she replied, jerking herself half around away, one foot planted forward with an air of excited pre-occupation; "I godd some' to tell 'im wad I 'blige' to tell 'im!" "Madame Delphine" "Oh! Père Jerome, fo' de love of de good God, show me dad way to de 'ouse of Jean Tomkin!" Her distressed smile implored pardon for her rudeness.
And there sits uncle Chubb or Tomkin, as the case might be, the publican of the Crown and Anchor, in shirtsleeves, eating rumpsteak and onions. No chair for father. Broo! The wind! Her brandnew arrival is on her knee, post mortem child. With a high ro! and a randy ro! and my galloping tearing tandy, O! Bow to the inevitable. Grin and bear it.
"Oh, Père Jerome! mo pas conné, I dunno. You know w'ere's dad 'ouse of Miché Jean Tomkin? Mo courri 'ci, mo courri l
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